Escape
by astral symphony
Summary: ONESHOT, JPLE    "Now stop gaping and get your arse over here. Too far away. Too many clothes."


**author's note: **just a one-shot I started over the summer and finally finished. unedited, pretty quickly done. reads and reviews are most appreciated, my loves!

* * *

><p>"Don't look so surprised, Potter. It's nothing you haven't seen before."<p>

"While that's true," James said slowly, eyes scanning the redhead as she reclined back, propping herself up on elbows, "I'm usually a bit more prepared. Can't say I've ever walked into my dormitory to find you half-naked sitting on my bed before. No. I _think_ I'd remember that. Right. Well. What's the occasion?"

Lily sighed, sitting up. "Why must there be an _occasion_ for me to be lying in your bed? I think you're missing the point." She paused, looking at him. He merely stared at her, still rather dumbfounded. "The point being, me. Lying. In your bed," she said pointedly, raising her eyebrows at him. "Now stop gaping and get your arse over here. Too far away. Too many clothes." He took a tentative step towards her, but she leaned forward on her knees and grabbed his tie, yanking him closer and far more quickly than he was moving. James smirked and his hand leapt to his hair, a habitual motion.

"_Merlin_, Evans! Did Sirius slip something into your pumpkin juice or something?"

She glared at him, still tugging at his tie. It came undone, having already been loosened prior to her ministrations towards its removal. Tossing it to the floor, she started on his buttons. "Christ, you're useless tonight," she chided, making quick work of his shirt while he stood there, blinking down at her. "I suggest you snap out of it."

"That's a trifle difficult when my girlfriend surprises me in my bed and proceeds to nonchalantly undress me," James said, grabbing her hands, entwining her fingers with his, mid-button.

Lily's head snapped up, eyebrows raised curiously. "This is sweet and all, but I'm not sitting in my knickers to hold your hand, you dunce."

"I'm not sure what potion you're on right now, and I'm not saying I hate it, but I would like to take this moment to remind you: we are in a dormitory and I live with four other boys."

"I took care of that."

He looked at her suspiciously. "Should I be worried?"

She pulled one of her hands from his, using it instead to smack him on the arm. "They're not lying stunned in an empty corridor, if that's what you're thinking," she said with a scoff. He laughed and cocked his head to the side, a silent inquiry as to what she'd done. "Remus, Peter, and Frank are down in the kitchens. They may or may not have come down with inexplicable, insatiable hunger. Black was easier to deal with – all _I_ had to do was inform him that Marlene McKinnon was looking for a snog and there was a good chance he would find her in the Defense classroom."

James smirked and leaned over her, his arms on either side of her. She pulled back slightly, their bodies not touching. He inclined his face close enough that she could feel his breath; it sent shivers through her spine. "How positively resourceful," he muttered. "But how can we be sure they're not going to be back any time soon?"

"Like I said," she said, matching his tone, "insatiable hungers."

"Now," he said, tilting his head away when she went to kiss him. This earned him a glare, but he deflected it easily, grinning haphazardly. "Our second order of business is that of your intentions."

"My intentions," she repeated dully, flopping down on her back and staring at the ceiling. James remained hovering over her.

"Yes, your intentions."

"You know, for an eighteen-year-old boy, you're awfully good at restraining yourself."

"I've had about three years of practice, thanks to you," he quipped. She wrinkled her nose at him. "_Anyway_," he pressed forward, "not that I am complaining in the slightest, I'm just _wondering_ why exactly you're doing this."

"Oh, for Christ's sake, James! Why does it matter?" Lily groaned, rubbing her palms into her eyes. "By the time you're done with the Spanish Inquisition, I'm not going to be in the mood anymore," she mumbled.

"I'll put you in whatever mood you'd like," he all-but-purred at her. She lifted her head to look at him, effectively glaring.

"You haven't even touched me and I've been lying here for at least five minutes. I think I'm the one who should be pulling questions right now."

"Fine," James conceded. "I won't ask you anymore questions. They can wait. Well-behaved questions, they are. Won't go anywhere. Staying put. Waiting."

"You're infuriating."

"You're avoidant."

"You're still wearing too many clothes."

"Point in case."

"_Merlin's beard_," Lily muttered and was about to tell him off for being a fool when her mouth was caught up in his. There was still far too much space between their bodies for her liking, but she didn't have time to complain. He had found a much better use for his tongue, after all, and it was about time. But just as she managed to skillfully finish the removal of his shirt and finagle him onto his back, he was sitting up again and scooting a few inches from her.

"Honestly?" she cried, grabbing at the ends of her hair. "Who are you and what have you done with James Potter?"

"That is a good question. I'm sure he is off gallivanting with the real Lily Evans." She glared at him and leaned back on her hands. "All right, knock that off. You know you're acting funny, and I'm just concerned. Don't I get points for being concerned?"

She shot him a skeptical look. "Maybe."

"Are you going to share with the class?"

"Maybe."

James looked at her curiously. "So you admit it, that something's wrong?" he asked, reaching his hands out to her. Hesitantly, her palms met his.

"Nothing's _wrong_, James." Lily inched closer to him, their knees touching. She clasped her hands around his, holding tight. "It's just, sometimes I need to escape. It's our last year, and it's stressful, and I can't control what goes through my mind half the time. Which is unfortunate, because mostly all I can think about is how, in just a few months, we're being sent out into this awful excuse for reality. I just want to escape," she said, looking at him almost desperately. "Happy now?"

He frowned slightly. "I'm the escape?"

"In a sense, I suppose," she said tentatively.

"You know, I can be a reality, too," he murmured gently, pulling his hand from hers to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

"No. Reality is the world we're about to enter. I want to escape with you."

He leaned forward and kissed her, soft and sweet, pulling her close to him until they fell backwards. Her hands found his hair, while he caressed her back and sides and arms. She deepened the kiss, crashing her lips into his until it felt there was nothing more.

"We don't need to escape," James breathed as her mouth made its way to his neck. "We can be a reality."

She didn't answer, couldn't answer. It was that precise thought that frightened her beyond measure. To picture of a reality that wasn't just solidarity and war was to think of something too precious, something that could be quickly ruined. One fight, one curse, one missed beat – and it could all be taken away. But now, in this moment, with his body warm against hers, it was safe: untouchable, sacred, unspeakable.

Because when he kissed her like he was, and when his touch sent shivers through her spine, and when he held her close at the end of the night – everything was okay. She found her escape.


End file.
